


But If We Don't Try, Then We'll Never Know

by amethystsfade



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, But it gets better I swear, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Vague threat of smut at the start, it's sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2021-01-01 19:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21148100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amethystsfade/pseuds/amethystsfade
Summary: Lost in the reality of their own heads, they don't sleep - counting minutes until dawn streaks through theshutters neither of them remembered to close.





	But If We Don't Try, Then We'll Never Know

They don't even get to fuck. Uncoordinated, with overpriced hotel alcohol taking off the veneer of reason, they just desperately jerk each other off, calloused hands fumbling as they chase release. Lando is pinned skin to skin against the hotel wall, scratching thin lines down Carlos' back, soft gasps as Carlos strokes him at an almost merciless pace. The undercurrent of want bubbles over in both and Carlos comes first, moaning against Lando's mouth. Lando isn't far behind, his head falling back as he spurts over Carlos hand, wrist and probably the carpet. Ragged breathing fills the space between them, muffled as the blood sings in their ears. As their panting slows and their high fades, Carlos pulls back so Lando can peel himself off the wall. Running through his already messy hair, Carlos hands shake a little as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

They both stand there, ambient hum of the hotel aircon fading back into focus. Carlos looks unreadable in the lamplight but Lando's in shock, barely believing this is real. He can't even begin to process what's just happened. Sweat cools on their skin and Lando feels a shiver of cold up his spine. Carlos coughs and turns on his heel, heading to the bathroom to return with tissues. They wordlessly clean themselves and dress, the air hanging thick and cloying. In vino veritas is replaced by the sudden rush of post-orgasm sobriety and the silence fills Lando with a sense of foreboding. Lando waits for Carlos to say something, anything. But he doesn't. The glass surrounding the moment shatters, leaving shards and blood in its wake. Guilt is sketched over Carlos' face, an expression Lando's never seen in him. Part of him hopes he never sees it again. Carlos worries his bottom lip, refusing to look him in the eye. The atmosphere chokes them both into indecision. They're a meter apart, it might as well be 100. Of course - Carlos thinks they went too far, and Lando realises then with a feeling of sadness he won't get an answer as to why, probably never will. And nothing good will come of staying now. So before Carlos can say anything to break the spell, he leaves. Lando doesn't wait to hear the rejection he knows is coming. As the door snaps shut behind him Lando is unflinchingly calm as he heads back to his own room. His heartbeat is still faster than it should be, so Lando tries to calm himself by taking slow shallow breaths until he's safely there. His mind feels both foggy and wired as he sits on the edge of his bed. Lando didn't cry, though part of him wanted to. He'd known this might happen, and he'd made peace with that. His heart might hurt now but the summer break had started, he could hang on until he got home to fall apart. Tugging off his shoes and jeans, he drops face down on the bed, before rolling over to stare vacantly at the ceiling. Carlos does the same, unbeknownst to him. Lost in the reality of their own heads, they don't sleep - counting minutes until dawn streaks through the shutters neither of them remembered to close.

Carlos is gone and already on a plane for the summer by the time Lando's alarm goes off the next morning. If he felt anything in return, clearly he was choosing to run from it.

Lando will be fine somehow, this much he knows. People often assumed his age meant a lack of emotional resilience, but it's hardly the first time he's overcome setbacks. However much it stung, he'd find a way through. He sat up, groggy and dehydrated as sunlight streamed in. The hollow ache in his heart threatened to make him brittle, but he swallowed it down as he packed to meet up with the bus back to the airport. After a long flight and many goodbyes to the team, it's back round to dark again when Lando gets back to his flat. Letting himself in, he dumps his bag and doesn't even bother to unpack. Glass-eyed, he curls up in his own bed holding his knees to his chest, the muscles in his shoulders stretched tight. Falling into a dreamless nothing, when he finally wakes it's grey and unseasonably chilly. His lungs sting as he inhales crisp air and all he can hear is birdsong and motorway drone. Early, so he settles back to fitful sleep, fractured with dreams he can't begin to interpret. It's in those dreams he finally allows himself to cry.

Carlos hasn't been in touch, not that Lando expected him to. Several days later, and after throwing himself at every distraction he can think of, Lando finds himself alone half-heartedly playing Call of Duty and eating decidedly not dietician approved food. The flat is cleaner than it's ever been. He scrolls through a few messages - George away on holiday, Alex's double handed offensive of cat photos and poorly disguised concern over his near-silence. Lando weighs up telling him - he could use a confidante and Alex would keep the secret to the grave if he asked. Confiding in Alex however, would mean a dozen supplementary questions (at least), not all of which he feels able to answer.

The British summer eventually morphs into summer storms, the heat still sticky and oppressive despite the rain. Lando is cursing himself for not driving or bringing an umbrella as he trudges home. Manhandling grocery bags to reach the door keys in his back pocket is made twice as hard with the outside light blown. In the dark, he doesn't notice Carlos pull up. Nor does he notice Carlos walk towards him until he's halfway up the drive. Lando startles, and steps back on the ball of his foot, fight or flight instincts on high alert. Carlos doesn't say anything, still inscrutable as he follows Lando up into the flat. Lando bites down the urge to react on that flash of anger in his stomach, and sits them both on the sofa. Rainwater drips off them onto the floor beneath, groceries abandoned in the corner. Lando can barely get a breath in, let alone a word before Carlos cracks. Whatever Carlos has bottled up pours out of him as emotional lava. And when Carlos can't talk any more he breaks into pieces. He's clearly exhausted and can't even fight off the flow of hot, frustrated tears when they finally spill. Lando just holds him, steady and sure, letting Carlos sob into the crook of his neck. His tears streak down their skin as Lando wraps him tight in his arms. Carlos cries until the stress leaches out of his bones. Limp and heavy on Lando's shoulder, they sit in silence as the rain falls outside. There's evidently more to talk about, about what this means and where they go from here but for now they're content to just be. The rest can wait.

They're still in his flat the next morning, snaked around each other on Lando's rather messy bed. Carlos hasn't gone, in fact he's very much asleep, clinging onto Lando tight. Lando smiles and presses a kiss into Carlos' hair. The rain has stopped and sunlight streams through the window. The dust specks float like glitter and he feels light. Lando doesn't know what this fraction of new reality is, but he isn't letting go. They have each other's back, whatever this future is. And for now, that's enough for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh, I'm an actual trashpanda. Who apparently forgot how to write dialogue or decent smut in her fic-sabbatical.
> 
> Title is from 'Love Don't Hate It' by Duncan Laurence, which dropped just before I finished this. Someone gotta give Hozier a break from generating titles.
> 
> Usual disclaimers - not real, don't share, don't sue, don't read this out on Twitch.


End file.
